whenever the ship's bell sent its musical note echoing from bank to
bank of the creek, and rousing the denizens of the forest around. A
bird sang in the grove, tuning its lay to reproduce the notes of every
songster that had warbled during the daytime. The scents from the
masses of flowers, that clustered the banks and wound their tendrils
round the giant trees, floated fragrantly on the night air. There was
peace in the heavens above and the downward glances of the quiet-eyed
stars; there was peace in forest and pool, and sweet sounds and
fragrant odours; the ship rocked gently on the flowing tide in a haven
that might have been a harbour on the shores of a paradise. And the
sleeping men dreamed pleasant dreams, for the scents of the flowers
came insensibly into their nostrils, and the song of the bird beat
rhythmically on their resting brains. Here, a sailor laughed softly
and musically in his sleep; there, a gallant young gentleman murmured a
beloved name, as the face of the one beloved passed by in a sweet
vision of the night. In his sleep many a one was already at the home
where he would be; his hard-won treasures glittered on the familiar
table, and he gave this to one and that to another, hung a chain on a
fair young neck or pressed a ring on a dainty finger. Johnnie Morgan
stood by the river, exactly as he had stood on that bright March
morning when Dolly came up and begged for a reconciliation. She came
again; the gulls flew over the sands, and the sun shone warmly. Ah!
how long it was since that March morning.

The feathered singer in the tree ceased his singing, and hid his head
under his wing as his bright-plumaged fellows had done. The stars
paled; nature stirred in her sleep; the sailor on the deck felt the
tremor that quivered through the animate world, and rubbed his eyes
more vigorously. A breeze moved through the trees; the ripple of the
water was more distinct; there was a splash--another--another. A frog
croaked sleepily to his fellows, and got no answer for a while. A
yellow band stretched across the eastern horizon; it tinged the heaving
waters, it flecked the trees with gold. The whole forest rustled and
twittered. A bird flew down to the water. A parrot screamed noisily;
a sleeper started up from his hard couch. The sentinel cried the hour,
and announced a fine morning. The world heard him and woke up.

The day was to be a day of great things. Overnight nothing had been
done,